Violet Sunrise
by bloodinmycherryblossom
Summary: Edward was getting ready to make a life with Bella when the entrance of a mysterious new foe threatens to change the course of their love forever, and perhaps even annihilate their existence from this astral plane. Edward/Bella, but subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys! It's Cherry Blossom here! I recently read all the Twilight books and bought the original unedited version of the script off the Black Market! I totally got a bunch of plot ideas from it so I hope you guys like my story! **

**r&r please!**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: THE RAYVIN APPEARS

Ebony Rayvin rolled her icy-blue eyes as she entered Forks for the second, and hopefully last, time.

"This sucks werewolf blood," she said, her hand unconsciously cradling her taut, pale abdominals.

"Ebony!" she heard a smooth velvety voice and her loins quivered. She turned around met her love's smoldering copper irises. His eyes were filled with loathing, or perhaps, desire.

Edward was wearing a deep v-neck that reached his navel and vinyl high-waisted pants with mirrors on them; a sweater depicting galloping horses, along with a 24 carat gold broach in the shape of a silhouetted stallion, completed his outfit.

"The horse is my spirit animal," he explained, when he caught her gazing at his voluptuous breast. "Also known as a patronus. I believe my master was a horse and he turned into a vampire to do his horsey bidding. His name was Black Beauty, and his rippling muscles remind me why I'm bestially inclined."

She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "And what about that bicycle helmet?"

"It protects me when I run at superhuman speeds," his silky voice explained, his long, elegant fingers running along the edge of his feathered race-car helmet embossed with flames and rhinestones. "Plus, I got it autographed by Ryan Sheckler."

"You were always so clever, Edward," she said, "Except when it came to love."

They stared intently to each other, his gold flames boring into her aqua pools of melancholy. Her face pinched into a painfully attractive grimace, reflected back at her from the mirrors on his pants. She liked seeing herself in his pants.

Suddenly a fat, white blob leapt out of the forest and threw itself at Edward, pulling his stylish, high-waisted mirror pants down. He looked like Kate Moss from the waist down, with his shapely knees and hairless thighs and slim calves.

"Oh, Edward!" Bella shrieked, "Your topaz eyes called to me from across the depths of the forest of despair and misery!"

"Bella," Edward sighed, "My sweet," but he was looking straight at Ebony. His voice, once laced with the intricate passions of a lover, lacked the sweet harmony of a chorus of angelic dolphins sweeping through the glittering midnight sun that was vampire heaven.

Ebony, her eyes brimming with unshed globules of teary grief, watched as Bella attached herself to the man – nay, sensuous love beast – she longed for. She stormed off in an indignant rage into the forest, mindless of Edward's plaintive cries for her to stop.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: THE GREAT BEYBLADE BATTLE

Scarlet blood tears cascaded down the pale plane of Ebony's stony cheek, only to disappear in a glittering vapor that enclosed her in a gossamer veil of dissolved grief. Suddenly she heard a faint scratching sound, like the squeaking wheels of a wheelchair put under a tremendous amount of pressure. It was almost as if the wheels were crying out to her for release. The thought of the poor wheelchair in distress made her shed more tears of shimmering red blood.

Despite the fact that Ebony was the greatest vampire of all North America (greater than Evanescence, Korn and Martha Stewart put together), she was paralyzed by her sorrow. She was unable to react to the man emerging from the bushes. The man was nestled in a gilded, solid gold carriage, which was encrusted with sapphires and rubies and being pulled by a wilted native American grandfather in a wheelchair. The grandfather's flowing silver locks were braided in a huge rope that he used to secure the carriage to a wicker basket full of apples.

The man tapped a large scepter on the grandfather's head and the procession halted.

"Who are you, my mysterious reindeer of lust?" he asked Ebony.

Astounded by the man's wealth, Ebony could only sputter, "Ebony Rayvin."

"Ah," said the man, adjusting his tiara, "See, I've heard about you. You're the greatest vampire in North America. You're more powerful than Evenescence, Korn and Martha Stuart, and have defeated them in an epic Beyblade battle that shall forever be ingrained in the annals of vampire history."

Ebony tilted her smooth, glowing face up in rebellion, "Oh yeah? I didn't know the rumors of my Beyblade skillzzzzz had spread as far as Forks…"

The man smiled serenely and said, "Well then perhaps you have heard of me. My name is Jacob Black." He slowly took off his tiara and velvet purple cloak to reveal that he had giant wolf ears, paws and a mermaid tail that extended from his back and slapped the grandfather in the face.

Ebony appeared unperturbed, "I've never heard of you."

Jacob turned red with indignance, "Then I shall challenge you to a Beyblade battle!"

"Please," said Ebony, "Why don't we make this interesting?"

She pulled out from her apron (which she had worn regularly since ripping it off Martha Stewart's corpse as a token of victory) a bedazzled Pokeball.

"Beyonce!" she yelled, "I choose you!"

Jacob's eyes narrowed as he pursed his pillowy Cherokee lips. "Two can play at that game…" he said, and pulled out his own Pokeball.

"Grandfather!" he roared, "I choose you!" The grandfather was forcefully launched from his wheelchair and collapsed at Beyonce's feet.

Ebony narrowed her eyes, "Hah!" she scoffed with a voice that sounded like a million laughing fairies, "You'll never defeat my Beyonce!"

"Don't be so sure of yourself," smirked Jacob, "Release your Beyblade, Grandfather!"

"Beyblade up, Beyonce!" said Ebony.

The two opponents geared up their Beyblade tops.

"Grandfather! Activate tapioca shield!" interjected Jacob. Grandfather moaned as a thick coating of warm rice pudding encompassed his crumpled figure.

"Beyonce, TO THE LEFT, his tapioca can sense your aura! Use your cloaking device!"

Beyonce shrouded herself under the cover of a giant piece of construction paper.

"Now, Beyonce!" Ebony shouted, "Strike him with your hawk!"

A majestic hawk flew down from the sky and shattered the tapioca shield. The hawk grabbed Grandfather with his talons, and hauled him up into the sky. Grandfather's moans could be heard as the hawk carried him far, far away.

"Return!" Ebony smiled, satisfied and Beyonce was teleported back into the Pokeball.

Jacob was infuriated, "This won't be the last you see of me!" He wolfed out, his decorative native American loincloth ripping as he morphed. With one last snarl, he snatched the carriage in between his teeth and bound through the woods without a glance back.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: OUR LOVE IS LIKE AN AFRICAN ECOSYSTEM SITUATED ON A BRINY PIRATE SHIP.

Ebony entered her man cave which was unknowingly built under Mike Newton's house. She sighed and collapsed in a saggy couch, cracking open a beer and farting deeply, passionately, truly. The flatulence created a tremor that rocked the Newton household.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door of her man cave, which was really just the skin of Michael Buble stitched together and hung over the opening. She flung open the skin and was met by an unexpected visitor.

"What," she said, staring into the eyes of her lover, Edward Cullen.

"May I come in?" he asked. She smiled inwardly, he was always such a gentleman. Even on their first date back in the Spanish Inquisition when he shot heretics into the sky with rockets to create an illusion of entrancing fireworks.

Still, she was taken aback by his frankness. She hesitated for a moment, which allowed him to brush past her with a noiseless grace that only a vampire accomplish. She couldn't help but note that he left behind a fruity and pleasant scent.

"Wow," she said, "What shampoo do you use?"

"Extra-strength prescription dandruff shampoo infused with the blood of puppies," he said, "But that's not what I'm here to talk about. We need to discuss our relationship."

She had the unreadable expression of a meerkat faced with a dildo shaped like another meerkat. Yet he was a hippo, majestic, strong, rippling with the unbridled power to crush depraved African children in his detachable jaws. And a meerkat could never date a hippo. It was against the basic fibers that dictated life in the savannah of their existence.

Ebony shrugged, "What relationship?"

"You know what I'm talking about," said Edward and his eyes stormed like chocolate thunder with pee rain.

"What about Bella?" questioned Ebony, "Isn't she your new girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, never," said Edward, clasping her hand in his smooth, marble dancer fingers of a Dutch baroness, "She's just a girl I know."

Ebony turned away, "Then why was she hanging off of you like a barnacle to a narwhale?"

"Look," said Edward and tears began to cascade from his eyes like waterfalls of pure beauty and magic, "I love you, Ebony Ronyld Rayvin. Who else would I tell my greatest secret?"

"Your greatest secret?" she gasped.

"Yes," Edward's dainty hands shook as he slowly took off his helmet, "I don't wear the helmet because it protects me from inertia when I run at high speeds. I wear it to keep myself from reading the thoughts of others."

"Why would you do that?" Ebony cried, "Why would you suppress your gift?"

"Because," Edward wept like a schoolgirl, "I am a monster. I am _the Kraken_!" he fell to his knees and cursed the heavens. His cry had the same romance-enhancing frequency as smooth jazz ballad legend Barry White.

"Oh, Edward," she sighed, approaching him with soft, lustful footsteps. She sighed as she stroked his powerful mantis arms and the smooth plane of his back, once inflicted with the crippling effects of psoriasis.

"You might be a Kraken… but you're not just any Kraken. You're a Kraken with eight pulsating arms of passion and love… You're a Kraken a thousand individual suckers to kiss me with. It doesn't matter that you're a Kraken, because you're my Kraken." She dried his tears and he found the strength of his inner hippo to meet her gaze. His voice trembled as he fought to produce speech.

"If I am your Kraken… does that make you my Davy Jones?" he whispered. His breath caught in his throat and trickled out slowly like how sometimes when you throw up in your mouth but it's not a full throw up so you can't spit it out so you just swallow it back and it tastes really weird.

"Oh my sweet lusty buns of honey mustard…. I'll be your Davy Jones any day." She smiled coyly at him.

"I like that in a woman…" he moaned. She giggled and pressed herself against his spray painted abs.

"What?" she asked playfully.

"Strength, confidence. Body odor. You're like a voluptuous nematode that has wandered into my life and brightened it with the vibrance of your flagellum." He replied, cradling her in his arms.

"Well then why don't I take you to my Davy Jones Locker…" she said, taking him by the strap of his helmet and leading him into a lesser alcove located towards the butt end of her man cave. He willingly obliged.

But they didn't realize something. Somewhere, under an old and creaky sofa situated in the mancave, someone was watching. _Someone_ was adjusting a plastic tiara.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Charlie bent over and readjusted his indigo snake-skin hotpants, his buttery thighs chafing together uncomfortably. He looked particularly fetching that day, pairing his white, tube top with the nipples cut out along with a duo of red and gold nipple tassels. As he shook his broad chest, the tassels shimmered and danced, trembling from the buds that were suctioned against his savory breasts.

"Hey Charlie," said a blob at the peripheral of his vision.

"Oh, hey," said Charlie. It was his daughter, the ultimate failure and greatest regret of Charlie's life. Bella was evidence of the heterosexual transgressions of his childhood.

"HERP DERP," Bella repeated her catchphrase and fell down a flight of stairs. Charlie caught sight of his daughter, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. Because of her osteoporosis, her joints had completely disintegrated upon contact with the steps.

Charlie peeled Bella from the floor and poured her into a wheelbarrow which he then attached to a wicker basket full of implausibly heavy apples.

"Hello, my sweet toasty pelican," Charlie heard a voice say and turned around to find a man riding a tiny manatee.

"What?" said Charlie.

The man began WOLFIN' OUT, still riding the tiny manatee, which was crushed between his powerful muscled thighs of terror.

"What do you want?" asked Charlie, filled with both horror and arousal.

Jacob peeled the tiny manatee from his hairless appendage, not bothering to make eye contact with the aging prostitute.

"Where's Bella. I have a…proposal for her," he said, his voice suddenly eerily similar to Jafar from Aladdin. He then proceeded to stroke Charlie's eyebrows until he passed out from the pure ecstasy of enduring the caress of such a throbbing hairless deity who had somehow managed to harness the prowess of a Queen Wolf.

With Charlie out of the way, Jacob was free to speak openly about his 'proposal' to Bella. After he found her fat, caterpillar like body tucked snugly into the wheelbarrow, he briefed her on the happenings at the Rayvin man cave. Thoughts were exchanged, plans were made, and dance parties were held. (Well, Jacob danced. Bella was stretched into a huge sheet of living human flesh and used to shield against government detection.)

In the end, when all human error had been hammered out and the festivity winded down, after Jacob ordered for a fleet of tiny manatees dressed in Mardi Gras attire and baby bonnets, the two partners in crime decided to call it a day. They shook hands and said their goodbyes, after which Jacob stepped onto his fleet of Tiny Manatees and they swam him through the air back to his palace made of Jonas Brothers memorabilia.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE: THE TORTURED SOUL OF A VAMPIRE SUPER-SAIYAN

Ebony and Edward lay in a post coital haze, stroking each other's luscious, flaxen armpit hair, braided into tiny cornrows.

"That was so salty," said Ebony. "You make a mean egg casserole." She said coyly.

"Yeah, because I love to beat yolks." He said with a sumptuous waggling of his painted eyebrows. She reached over his quivering form and planted several "kurly" kisses on his crispy nostrils.

"Do you wanna," he exhaled his morning breath, which smelled like a diaper covered in yak pee and set on fire, into Ebony's hair. "Do you wanna go get some Chicken McNuggets?"

"They don't sell them this early," said Ebony, burrowing into Edward's misshapen, despondent armpit.

"Turd crepe," said Edward in a clipped tone, "Are you saying I can't have my fucking Chicken McNuggegts?"

"What-" Ebony started but Edward cut her off.

"DON'T MAKE ME ASSUME MY ULTIMATE FORM!" yelled Edward. Molten lava trickled from his irises, and flakes of moist dandruff began to bleed from the capillaries in his nose. His golden brown tresses inflamed into a mane of brimstone and hellfire that had been shat from the crack of Satan himself. His fists morphed into bombs, and his damp breasts began lactating battery acid. A splintering noise, like the ripping of metal arose through the roar of the fire; the helmet that had once barred his innermost secrets from the world had crumbled away in a cascade of freedom and tears.

"SUPER SAIYAN!" he roared as he was encompassed by a noxious green algae cloud.

"Edward!" shrieked Ebony. Her lover began to advance, blind to everything but the image of Chicken McNuggets in his mind. He grabbed her pale, limp, "wravioli" wrist and jerked her towards his shirt, which was now soggy with battery acid because he had forgotten to put on his uranium bra this morning.

Suddenly, a brick crashed through the window and shattered the bones in Edward's hair. He moaned in blinding pain, clutching his broken hair in his fist-bombs and slowly reverting to his natural shape.

"Ebony?" he looked up at her with golden eyes oozing great tears of liquid nitrogen, "Oh, God, did I hurt you?"

He hid his face and began to weep, "I am a _monster_," his great cries shaking the floor of Mike's bedroom.

"No, Edward," Ebony reached out to comfort the majestic sobbing creature but he shrunk away.

"Don't touch me," he whimpered.

"Please, let me help you," she placed a soothing creamy hand on his shoulder but his reaction was unexpected.

Edward roared like a bestial Hippogriff released from the depths of Hell and shot straight into the ceiling. He didn't stop there, though, and began clawing his way into the foundation of the Newton household, shredding through concrete and plaster like so much parmesan cheese, all the while shrieking and writhing like a manatee being disemboweled by the engine of a motorized aquatic vehicle.

He emerged in Mike Newton's bedroom, embedded in the hardwood floors up to his waist.

"Hey," he said, then, as a wail of derpy despair exploded from his vocal chords, he

quickly collected Mike's doughy white soul (which he had crapped out in surprise) in an old jam jar before disappearing back down into the man cave.

"Edward?" Ebony was standing at the center of the man cave, frozen, shocked.

"Oh, my sweet, throbbing, delicate love totem." He whispered, making a few timid steps towards his terrified lover. She was apprehensive; she shrank from his touch and turned her head away.

"Edward, I-"

"I know my outburst scared you. I scared myself too," he said with a suave but humble toss of his chins.

She huddled into herself, clutching the fabric of her apron and full-body Beyblade jumpsuit.

"Please, Ebony. Do not fear me, I love you." But Ebony shook her ink black locks.

"It's not you I fear, Edward. There are things far worse on our horizon." She whispered, and held up to him the brick that had crushed the ligaments in his hair.

Scrawled across the brick was an ominous message: _Meet us at the Chucky Cheese later tonight. And bring your Beyblades._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: HEY GUYS ITS CHERRY BLOSSOM HERE. I KNOW I HAVEN'T UPDATE BUT I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY WITH SCHOOL. THE SEVENTH GRADE IS SO HARD! ALSO I FLEW UP TO FORKS AND I MET STEPHANIE MEYER AND WE'RE IN NEGOTIATIONS FOR ME TO PLAY RAYVIN IN THE KNEW TWIILIGHT MOVIE.**

**AND TO ALL OUR H8ERS, I'D JUST LIKE THAT YOUR JUST JEALOUS CAUSE I'M GONNA BE IN A MOVIE WITH RPATTZ AND WE'RE GONNA HAVE A SMNOKIN' SEX SCENE.**

**AND TO ALL MY FANS I'D JUST LIKE TO SAY THANKS FOR SUPPORTING ME. YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS. ALSO I'D LIKE TO SAY NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP. NEVER LET YOU DOWN. NEVER GONNA RUN AND DESERT YOU! KTHX KAWAII DESU~~~ ^_^**


	7. Chapter 7

**a/N: sorry it's been so long you guys! i've been really busy with retirement. also, i got my first tattoo! it's the japanese kanji for 'pooswan'! cool, right?**

**well here's the next part!**

CHAPTER SIX: THE FINAL BATTLE

Ebony and Edward stood outside the Chucky Cheese, the wind whispering through the trees and the chill hardening their krusty nipples.

"What do you think is going on?" Ebony asked Edward but her beau did not answer. She noticed, however, the tense clench of his nutritious jaw line.

"I believe someone wants to topple you from your throne as Queen of the Beyblades," he said, proceeding to pick a large, wet, greasy snot particle from the cavernous depths of his nostril. He admired it for a fraction of a second before smearing the offending object into Ebony's raven locks.

"Who do you think it is?" Ebony questioned.

As if on cue, their challengers arrived.

"Bella?" gasped Edward the same time Ebony shrieked, "Jacob?"

"Yes, 'tis us," said Jacob with a sweeping hand. A chandelier rested on his head, connected to his newly constructed nipple piercings by a gilded sapphire chain. Bella was being carried a plastic bag from Target and they were both riding on the back of a naked and unidentifiable creature.

"What is that?" asked Ebony, terrified.

Jacob scoffed, "It is my personal orphan Wookie. I completely shaved all its hair off in order to degrade it into submission."

"What do you want with us?" Edward demanded, shaking his fist at Jacob, "I command you to tell me the truth, my crestfallen starfish of tropical rain running down my thighs in delicate rivulets of starry-eyed wonder!"

Jacob seethed, "The past is the past, Edward," his smoldering onyx orbulars focusing on the male vampire, "Or shall I say, Juniper Eustace!"

Edward growled, "You don't know the potential of my power."

Ebony gasped as she watched Edward's hands slowly turn black and spherical with a little wick at the end.

"No!" she shouted, "You cannot truly harness the strength of the Super-Saiyan form!"

Edward continued to look constipated but his hands reverted back into the porcelain appendages of a French opera girl.

"Hah!" laughed Jacob, "You can never fully manifest into your ultimate form because you never received the proper training."

Edward glowered, "My master, Black Beauty, was killed in a boating accident in Florida because he could not press his LifeAlert in time. He died before he could teach me to become Super-Saiyan."

Jacob laughed, "Oh, that's where you're wrong, Juniper! Black Beauty didn't die! Think about it."

Edward looked confused, "What are you talking about? A herd of manatees overturned his boat!"

"And exactly who is the king of the manatees?" Jacob gloated.

Edward gasped, "No!"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Edward felt the tears pouring forth, an unstoppable force that crashed against his pale marble cheeks.

"Black Beauty was heavily in debt because of his gambling problem. I knew him because he used to spend all day at my father's casino," Jacob explained, "One day, he contacted me and asked for help in faking his death. He wanted to cash out his life insurance policy."

Edward was sobbing now, disconsolate.

"I had my aquatic minions turn over his boat with plenty of witness around to see it. Then, out of sight, they brought Black Beauty to the shore where he received reconstructive face surgery. But after tapping into the deceptive powers he never knew he had, he realized he could never be satisfied until he gained the ultimate power. Which is why, Juniper Eustace, Black Beauty has joined forces with Bella and me to reclaim the title of Beyblade Empresses of North America!"

A thick, syrupy fog engulfed the four travelers, and Ebony's nipples gazed forth in apprehension. They stuck out of her sheer silk blouse like the tusks of a majestic and fierce wooly mammoth.

"Edward!" cackled Jacob, "Meet Black Beauty!"

The fog settled and there, in the parking lot of the Chucky Cheese was a giant stage. On that stage, was the band KISS, who started into an intense guitar riff.

Then, slowly descending from a swing, was Black Beauty.

Only, it was not a Black Beauty that Edward had ever known.

The scent of vanilla extract and home-style waffles wafted through the air. The guitar riff slowed and died out in favor of the dark, melancholy chords that rang out from a pipe organ that had risen in the center of the stage.

Seated at the organ was a stout, plump figure. The unidentified creature's spine curved and rippled in inhuman undulations as it continued to hammer out chord after chord on the pipe organ. At once the inharmonious music stopped. A light found and focused on the figure at the piano bench, growing stronger and stronger until it was completely illuminated.

Its head was bowed, as if in deep concentration. A yellow handkerchief secured a full head of nappy hair away from her face. Resting against and spilling over its curvaceous thighs were a pair of hefty breasts, whose strength, durability, and volume guaranteed that a small village was probably situated somewhere within their craggy recesses. A large, shapeless, silk floral-print muumuu, probably crafted somewhere in the highlands of Serbia, clung to every bodacious roll and dip that comprised her spherical body.

In the end, the creature truly was a Black Beauty. Her skin was the color of the deep and unmolested bark of a maple tree, almost red in its richness. But the most striking feature was yet to come. As the creature raised its great, domed head, and turned towards the somewhat terrified audience, a pair of bloody crimson scarlet red velvet cake eyes gazed out from the dark skin.

"AUNT JEMIMA!" Edward and Ebony cried out in a perturbed horror.

"Yes," she said in a deep, manly voice, "It is I, Black Beauty."

"Well," said Edward, "I guess it is time for the student to surpass the master."

Edward began to shoot lasers out of his nostrils but Aunt Jemima blocked it easily with a pancake.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to defeat me!" she cackled, then began releasing maple syrup and Doritos at Edward.

The maple syrup slowed the vampire down and allowed the Doritos to strike him in the eyeballs.

"Edward!" screamed Ebony and moved into the fight but Jacob stepped in front of her.

"Oh no, you're not," he said and began WOLFIN' OUT. The hairless orphan Wookie was crushed under the weight of his muscular wolven package.

Ebony pulled out of her chest hair, her Beyblades.

"Beyonce!" she yelled, "I release you!"

Beyonce appeared in a beam of light, in fighting position. Her weave was woven into a leotard of bodacious blond highlights.

"Please!" laughed Jacob, holding out one manicured hand, "You don't think I've been training since our last meeting? Grandpa! I summon you!"

Then, out of the foggy forest, flew a majestic hawk. And from the hawk's beak, hung the old Native American man from Bella and Jacob's last Beyblade battle. Only the old man seemed… different. His long, flowing, white hair was shiny, his limbs, once twisted by the cruelty of arthiritis, were encased in hard-boiled eggs and steel fibers. His mouth had morphed to epic proportions, engulfing the entire area of his face, from which now emanated, not whimpering tapioca-thickened moans, but a spine-tingling, orgasmic roar of sensual manhood.

Grandpa was dropped in front of Jacob with a crushing sploosh. If he had had eyes, they would have narrowed.

"You see," said Jacob, "I spliced Grandpa's DNA with a variety of chromosomes from Thundercats and Rastafarian Easy Bake Ovens. Ya mon you wont these BROWNIEZ. (Because they're coated in army-strength plexiglass chastity belts.)

Ebony felt, for the first time in a long while, fear. Luckily, she knew she had a wildcard up her sleeve…

Grandpa and Beyonce faced off against each other. Beyonce made the first move…

From her fanny pack, she quickly took out several syringes and thrust them at Grandpa. The syringes embedded into his jugular and promptly pumped his bloodstream full of peanut butter, sending his lymph notes into overdrive and facilitating the spread of Tyle 2 Diabeetus in the old man.

Grandpa ripped the syringes out of his skin and roared. The ground shook with his sensual fury.

"After I'm done with you," he bellowed spicily, "You'll be sent to the Mitchell Musso Mortuary, adjacent to Mitchell Musso Hotel, where you can find Mitchell Musso world-famous gelatto."

Beyonce said nothing. Grandpa smirked. His gums rippled in excitement and arousal.

Fire began to explode from his nipples and anus. He sailed through the air and landed nestled in the hammock of Beyonce's arm fat. There, he surreptitiously planted a million microscopic mayonaisse particles containing violent explosive powers.

Then he vaulted away, using her clavicles as a launching pad. Beyonce scrabbled to rid herself of the unstable mayonaisse-uranium molecules, but it was too late.

Ebony watched in horror and surprise as her prize, her essence, her very reason for existing, Beyonce, exploded into a colorful burst of hypnotic R&B energy.

Ebony collapsed to her knees, the force of the blow pulverizing them instantly, her mouth slack with the shock of losing her Beyonce.

On the other side of the lot, Black Beauty and Edward continued to square off.

Edward was wearing 17th century silk pantaloons crafted in an impoverished Taiwanese orphanage that he ran himself. Large eagle wings were secured to his arms with duct tape and festive Quanza yarn. Also he wore a sheer blush pink blouse from the clearance in the maternity section of Macy's. He was looking rather fetching in that moment.

But that didn't matter, not really. Aunt Jemima had confused him with a cardboard cut out of Toby Maguire nestling a meerkat in the cleavage created by his substantial mammary glands.

While Edward was momentarily paralyzed, Aunt Jemima had secured herself a flame thrower that shot out fire as well as cutlery from T.J. Maxx (Aunt Jemima was a prominent MAXXINISTA.)

Edward groaned in his soupy wrath. There were several pizza-cutters embedded in his loins, and third-degree burns covered his cankles.

"How dare you," he seethed. "My cankles are my most prized feature. They enable me to probe the thoughts of the innocent."

Aunt Jemima cackled. "Well now you can never use them again. You're immobilized!"

A feeling of despair pervaded his mouth like green vomit coming back up after a hefty meal.

"Well then," he said, "I guess I'll have to go to my last resort."

A constipated expression crossed his countenance. His hair began to solidify, and his hands morphed into a hard black sphere. When he opened his eyes, his pupils had stretched to form the shape of Hitler dolphins.

"Suuuuuuuuuuper Saiyannnnnnnn!" he screamed.

Ebony looked up from her own entanglement and saw her asthmatic lover transforming.

"No," she whispered, jumping up to help him.

"Stop," said Jacob. Grandpa moved to block Ebony's path. "You can't help him."

It'd been several years since Ebony had cried – the last time being the slaughtering of her band, Nickelback. Even when she had been turned into a vampire by Nick Lachey, even when she had left Edward the first time, she had not shed a tear. But now, her sadness and sorrow crashed forth so immensely that the impenetrable wall of solid mayonaisse that was her heart crumbled.

"Please," she wept. Candle wax dripped from her eyeballs, sliding down her defined abs. "Please, Edward!" She knew that if he sustained his Super-Saiyan form for too long, due to his lack of training, he would never be able to be the creamy porpoise she had always known.

Edward was lost to her cries. He smiled evilly, in an entirely un-Edward fashion.

Black Beauty smirked smugly."You've realized your true power, Eustace," she said. "You are a worthy adversary."

"Yeah right, Dick Cheney," Edward replied. "Go back to Scotland, you devilish highlander."

All hope had been lost. The Chuck E. Cheese lay decimated by the battle, the screams of a child's birthday birthday coming from the rubble provided a dramatic ambience to the event.

Aunt Jemima cackled mirthlessly. Edward's transformation was going all according 2 plan…..


	8. Interlude

**A/N: hey guys! i'm working on the next chapter, but for now, here is a spicy new interlude that is probably going to end up becoming its own story! tell me what you think! R&R!**

Interlude: A Brief Expenditure into the Life and Times of a Banana Farmer

In the newly formed state, Mitchell Musso Confederacy, Governor Mitchell Musso was quietly tending to his crop of singing, homosex banana trees. His trees required much attention and phalangeal dexterity.

Suddenly, the harmonic chorus of his prized trees halted. Governor Musso looked up quizzically, bringing a hand to his be-peeled face and stroking the soft homoerotic bark of his favorite banana tree, Reginald, with the other. Reginald shivered and murmured in malcontent, but stayed otherwise silent.

The whole farm was uncharacteristically….quiet. Governor Musso knew that something was wrong.

Quickly, he darted away, making for the underground bomb shelter underneath his home, constructed out of banana debris and the exhumed corpses of his late family members, including his sister, Melanie Musso and his fraternal twin, and lover, Walt Whitman. He punched in the digital code ("hamncheez") and locked the door behind him, securely encasing himself in his fortified banana tomb.

In his pungent shelter, Governor Musso situated himself in a leopard-print bean bag and began to casually sip one of his favorite concoctions; a pureed blend of his Peruvian housewife's spent fingernails and guava juice. Whatever happened…he would wait here.

The first thing he heard was the high-frequency keening of Reginald's once sweet, ripe, homosex voice. Then abruptly, it ended. Governor Musso's hands trembled in fear and unexpected desire.

Nothing could prepare him for the blast that came nexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxt.

A loud SPLOOSH carved a path of destruction across the banana farm, and continued to create carnage and suffering in the entire eastern seaboard of the United States. Governor Musso's luxurious chartreuse locks disintegrated in the sonic boom. His upper lip tore itself from his face and scurried to the other end of the room in fear. He quickly pasted a baby banana peel over the wound in effort to disguise his disfiguration.

"What," he muttered lowly, his voice half-obscured by the bloody banana peel that interfered with his mouth. "What was that?"

Crawling lowly out of his shelter, he popped his head out of the ground like a groundhog on the morning of Groundhog's Day, the most useless holiday, in the Western Hemisphere. What he saw shocked him, and caused him to empty his bowels of fingernail juice.

Once a lush banana plantation brimming with prosperity and harmony of gay trees singing in unison, the land was now barren, desolate, and utterly constipated. Broken trunks of once merry trees stuck up out of the clay-like sand like jagged teeth inflicted with the crippling effects of scurvy.

Slowly, one acidic tear slid down his cheek and landed with a sizzle on the ground.

Whoever had done this…? He trembled with fury. Governor Musso vowed to find out, and then bring a world of pein to that person….


End file.
